


In Another World (Things Might Have Gone Differently)

by sourdough_pup



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU--born in a different time, Alternative Universe - FBI, Arranged Marriage, Betrayal, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Hydra!Jemma, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, SHIELD Academy, Secretly Married, Tags to be added as needed, The SHEILD Academy, leaving SHIELD, mentions of cannonical self-harm/suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 9,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourdough_pup/pseuds/sourdough_pup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles previously posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning--Ward/Simmons

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter title will include the pairing. I'll try to warn, but if you think something needs to be warned for and/or tagged, please let me know!

Jemma took a deep breath, hand tightening briefly around her key, before letting it out slowly and unlocking the door to her new apartment. Stepping inside, she set her purse on the small table just inside and looked around. Open, bright, and airy, she felt lighter than she had in months. Toeing off her shoes, Jemma let the door fall shut as she made her way to the couch. Settling down, she felt herself relax at last.

Despite her belief in SHEILD’s mission and purpose, the last few years had been difficult. Her not-so-brief and very dangerous stint in the field, going undercover, betrayal on multiple fronts, there was only so much she could handle. Gazing out the window, she reflected on her leaving.

May and Lance, surprisingly, had been the most understanding, both offering hugs and promises of help if she ever needed it. Skye had been supportive, but was still disappointed. Fitz had made her promise to call and visit, but their fractured friendship was only beginning to heal; she was afraid it wouldn't survive this. Coulson had simply wished her the best. She couldn’t think about Bobbi, who had left a few weeks earlier for a mission and would only get a note.

Curled up on the couch and contemplating her future, she didn’t even notice as she drifted off.

When she woke, the sun was setting and the smell of pancakes permeated the room. Standing, she pulled the light blanket that had been draped over her closer and wandered into the kitchen.

Grant looked up from the stove with a grin that warmed her from the inside. “Welcome home.”

“Yes,” she said as she drifted over to lean against him, “I’m home.”


	2. Accusation--Bobbi/Jemma

“Hey, Jem,” Bobbi calls out as Jemma leaves the lab, as friendly as before, as if nothing had happened. Catching up to the shorter scientist, she asked, “I know the timing isn’t great, but when things calm down, would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

“I’d like that,” Jemma says, following immediately with, “but I’m afraid can’t.”

“Can’t?” Bobbi’s smile falls as soon as she’d hears Jemma’s second statement. “Why not?”

“You lied to me, Bobbi.” It had hurt more than she had expected, finding out Bobbi was spying on their team. “I don’t know how much of what I know about you was just a cover. You know how I feel about lying, I told you. You told me to tell Fitz the truth, once. For a group that thinks democracy and transparency are the answer, you sure kept a lot of secrets.” She knows she sounds bitter; finding out that Coulson had been hiding so much on top of the fact that one of her closest, if newest, friends had been lying the entire time she had known her has been hard to deal with. “And don’t,” she adds, with a dark look as Bobbi opens her mouth, “try to tell me ‘you weren’t lying, you just didn’t tell me everything.’”

And as Jemma listens to Bobbi try to convince her to give her another chance, she knows in her heart that the person whose lies she was most hurt by were her own.


	3. Restless--Ward/Simmons

Despite having watched many times before, it struck Jemma, as she settled down with her tea to watch Ward’s daily workout ( _five o’clock, on the dot_ ), that he resembled a tiger in a zoo—penned in, caged up, but no less dangerous for the walls surrounding him.

She sighed. Despite everything he had done, she couldn’t help the way her heart leapt to her throat whenever he hurt himself. Since his first episode of self-injury ( _suicide attempt_ , her mind whispered), she’d kept an even closer eye on him during her shifts on “Ward-watch.” It was as much a factor in her decision to ask Coulson for an off-base assignment as her deteriorating friendship with Fitz.

He had betrayed the team, tried to kill them, he _**dropped her out of the Bus**_ , and even after all that, she could still remember the man that promised to catch her, argued with her over scrabble, came to her when he was injured ( _his blood was the same red, whether he was injured by a mission or by his own hand, she knew intimately_ ).

She’d told Fitz that some people were just born evil, but she still had problems believing that of him. Some of the things Skye had let slip about his childhood matched his records a little too closely for that part of his history to be a lie ( _it’s hard to fake bone fractures that old_ ). As a scientist, the truth was important, and nature versus nurture was still a complicated and hotly debated topic after all.

In the end, it didn’t really matter what she wanted. Orders were orders, and it was just her luck to be going undercover at a HYDRA lab. Perhaps after she’d been debriefed, her superiors would agree to let her rescue her husband ( _tigers should be free, after all_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the implication is that Jemma is with HYDRA


	4. Snowflake--Bucky/Jemma

Jemma shivers as she stands in the doorway. Winter has always be her favorite season. The crisp air, the holiday cheer, the foods—no matter how much she loves the colors of fall, the long days of summer, the new life of spring, they just cannot compete.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she finally greets the man before her, “can I help you?” She knows it is unspeakably rude of her not to invite him in, but she doesn’t know if she can handle having him in her home if he is just going to leave.

He flinches almost noticeably. “I’m sorry I left like that.” He offers, not quite meeting her eyes. “I needed to get myself together. I couldn’t…”

Jemma nods, accepting his apologies. She forgot, while he was gone, how fragile he is. “I understand,” she says, and she does. She still works for SHEILD, but she lives in her own house, not on a base, and she had gone undercover just to get away and sort herself out once. “Would you like to come in? Or do you have someplace you need to be?” She understands, but she still needs to protect herself.

Bucky smiles shyly at her. “Just here.”

“After you then,” Jemma directs her own smile first at him, then at the snow swirling in the street lights, before following Bucky into the house. She has another reason to love winter now.


	5. Flame--Gen/No pairing

When a knock on the door interrupted their debate, Grant, Bobbi, and Tripp all turned to look at the door, then at each other. When they all shrugged, unsure who was calling on them this late, Bobbi called, “it’s open!”

None of them expected the petite biochemist who stood in their doorway. They recognized her, of course; even in Ops—maybe especially in Ops—people talked about scientists that brilliant. Also, she was in Tripp’s field med class.

“I’m not sure which one of you did it, and I don’t particularly care,” she stated, eyes hot with anger but voice pleasant, “but if whoever set my lab on fire doesn’t have it fixed by tomorrow morning, I will make the rest of your time at the Academy most unpleasant. Understood?”

The trio exchanged another set of looks, then turned back and nodded.

“Wonderful! I won’t take any more of your time, then.” She said with a smile, “Tripp, I’ll see you on Monday.” With that, she left, closing the door gently behind her.

The specialists-in-training all blinked, then in unison called, “dibs.”


	6. Formal--Ward/Simmons

When the Academy had announced that they were conducting a new class to bring the different divisions together to “enhance the performance of all agents,” Grant hadn’t particularly cared one way or another. If it worked, great, if not, it didn’t affect him. When they told everyone that participants were going to be selected by teachers and if chosen, would be required to take the class, he was leery, but doubted he would be chosen. When he opened his email three days later to find a notification informing him that he had been given the honor of being one of the first students to be involved, he was honestly pissed.

He knew he was the top student at Ops, but that wasn’t because he was a people person. He could handle it, but he didn’t want to have to fake getting along with some scientist with their head stuck in the clouds, only looking down their nose at a “muscle-bound specialist,” or worse, someone from Communications.

Still, it was a good chance to make more contacts, maybe he’d get someone who was in weapons design and he could get all the new toys early. That would require a good first impression, though, so he’d worn his nice suit to the opening ceremony, kept his shoulders straight, and plastered a convincing smile on as he walked into the office to meet his assigned partner.

The only other person in the office appeared to be a teenage girl. Grant was glad his smile hadn’t slipped when she got up, extending her hand. “Hello, I’m Jemma Simmons, you must be my partner, Grant, right?” she chirped, smiling brightly. “I’m so excited, the first of many in a program that might change how the Academy runs, don’t you think.”

“It’s thrilling,” he deadpanned, taking her hand. “Grant Ward, Ops. You’re SciTech, right?”

Her smiled broadened. “That’s right. My focus is biochemistry, for the most part.”

“I have to ask, how old are you?” He probed, not beating around the bush, quickly tacking on, “not that I don’t think you’re qualified, I know you need at least one PhD to get into SciTech, you just look much younger than most students,” when her smile slid into a frown.

“I’m 18, it’s my second year, and I have two PhDs actually. How old are you?” She asked, her smile coming back when he acknowledged her qualifications and she gestured to the chairs. He was right, she was a teenager, but not for long, and with credentials like that, it was no wonder she was in SHEILD. 

Grant took the seat across from her, “23, and on my third year.” He admitted, wondering how she would react to being paired with someone so much older.

“Splendid!” She enthused. When he looked at her questioningly, she blushed slightly. “I’ve found that most of the younger students from the other Academies, and even many at SciTech are very immature. It’s quite frustrating, to be honest.” Grant nodded, understanding exactly what she meant.

The sound of the door opening made both of them snap to attention. The program’s coordinator stepped through. “I apologize for keeping you.” He took in the way they were sitting, “I take it you’ve both introduced each other?” At their nods, he continued. “Good. If you’ll fill out these forms, we’ll get your new schedules sent out and you’ll be free to go, though we recommend you spend some time getting to know each other.”

The two students agreed, and, sneaking a glance at his partner while they wrote, Grant thought it might not be so bad after all.


	7. Move--Ward/Simmons

Jemma hummed as Grant slid into bed behind her, one large hand coming around to rest on her stomach. “Hey baby, feeling any better?”

Jemma snuggled back into him. “No,” she lied. She still ached and wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but Grant always made her feel better.

“No?” He asked, knowing she was lying and amused by it. He always was. “So I guess you don’t want to come watch movies with everyone?”

“Can’t we just watch movies in here?” She asked plaintively.

“We can’t fit the whole team in my bunk.” He reminded her, pressing a smiling kiss to the back of her neck.

She sighed. “Are you sure?” She felt his hand rub gently, easing her cramps.

“Positive. But I could claim the couch, make you tea and a hot water bottle, maybe even throw in some ibuprofen?” He offered.

Jemma straightened, twisting around to face him. “One more condition.” She said seriously. He nodded. “Carry me.”


	8. Silver--Ward/Simmons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post "The Dirty Half Dozen"

Jemma smiled as her phone rang. Rolling over on her bed, she pulled it to her ear as she answered, “hello, darling, did you make it out alright?”

Grant’s laugh eased the last of her worries. “No problems at all,” he assured her. “Everything ok on your end?”

“Yes, no one seems to suspect a thing.” She said, smiling down at the ring she wore. She rarely risked it, but having been so close to her husband with no real contact and pretending to use splinter-bombs on him made her decide it was worth the danger to have that bit of comfort tonight.

“Good,” Grant said. “I talked to Coulson, told him I was out. Said I couldn’t make up for the things I’ve done but that Kara could and deserved a second chance.”

Jemma nodded to herself, recognizing the unspoken question. “She seems to be doing ok. I saw Bobbi sitting with her, and she isn’t showing any signs of distress. I’ll keep an eye on her, though. You know this will upset her.”

“I know,” Grant agreed with a sigh. They were both rather fond of the former agent, but knew that running around with Grant was not a particularly healthy thing for her.

Twisting her ring around her finger, she frowned slightly. “I think we need to get the rings re-dipped in rhodium.” Jemma told Grant distractedly.

“Or you could just let me get you a gold ring.” He responded, “I’ll even get you white-gold if you prefer. It’s not like anyone will notice if you keep it on a chain. They’ve never noticed that one.”

“True,” she agreed, before getting back on topic. “So, Kara is safe, Bakshi is dead, you’re free of the worst suspicion, and I’m getting tired of sleeping alone.”

“Well,” she could hear the smile in his voice, “I’ll just have to do something about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can dip silver jewelry in rhodium to keep it from tarnishing and make it super shiny.


	9. Prepared--Bobbi/Jemma

Fluffy blanket? Check.

Two mugs of her special hot cocoa? Check.

Fairy lights strung up and lit? Check.

Her Christmas Netflix playlist? Check.

Warm and cuddly girlfriend? No check.

Jemma frowned, and looked at her watch. Bobbi was supposed to meet her 10 minutes ago. Setting her computer on her bed, she ventured out to find her wayward lover. It didn’t take her long to find her, working in the kitchen. Folding her arms over her chest, she frowned at Bobbi. “You’re late.” She announced.

Jemma had to bite back a smile when she turned around to reveal flour smudged all over her forehead and shirt. “Sorry, Jemma.” She apologized. “I had to fend off Skye and Fitz.” She help up a plate heaping with what Jemma knew were fresh, homemade cookies.

“I suppose you can be forgiven.” She said imperiously, still suppressing her grin.

“So generous.” Bobbi teased, “how ever will I make it up to you?”

Jemma let herself smile as Bobbi slung her free arm around her shoulder. It was nice to have someone special to celebrate the holidays with.


	10. Knowledge--Ward/Simmons

Grant frowned to himself, watching his wife putter around the Playground’s lab. Jemma could be trusted to trust him and follow his lead, but with everything that had happened, he would need to play this carefully; she got stubborn when she thought he was wrong and injuries were something she usually took a stand on.

“Hey, Jem.” He paired his greeting with a soft smile and worried eyes. “How are you holding up?”

The smile she gave back was brittle, tainted with the stress of the last week and concern over the team. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. Have you heard from Coulson?”

“No,” he lied, shading his voice with anxiety. Coulson had called about 20 minutes ago to assure him the team was fine; Grant had lied then, too, promising to pass the message on to Jemma. “I was hoping you had.” He hated how her frown deepened, but he was also pleased; this was a good opening. “Look, Jem, I know you don’t want me in the field until I heal a little more, but I hate letting the team do this without us. I just wish we could help somehow.”

Her expression softened and she walked over to lay a hand on his arm. “I know.”

“I just feel so useless.” He confessed, falsely. “At least Koenig can crosscheck the escapees’ history and current crimes, but I won’t be much help with that, even if he’d let me touch a computer.

“I know what you mean. All my data is on the hard drive, and I wanted to double check a few things before I continued my tests on Skye’s blood.” Jemma sighed.

“Yeah,” Grant agreed, glad she took the bait, “too bad only Skye can decrypt the hard drive.

“Actually,” Jemma admitted shyly, perking up. “I know how to decrypt it.”

“What?” Grant froze, rebooting his plan. He wouldn’t need Skye’s help after all.

Jemma bit her lip. “Skye was showing me some hacking techniques, and explained it to me when she encrypted it. It’s location tied, like her laptop, but instead of the street behind the diner, it’s the cruising altitude of the Bus. There’s a bit more to it, obviously, but that’s the key.”

Grant nodded as if considering, but he had already altered his plan for this piece of information. “Why don’t we go meet the team in Portland. You can unlock the drive so Skye doesn’t have to worry about it later, and I’m sure they could use the back up. May can keep an eye on the Playground without our help, but as good as Trip is, they’re going up against Daniels and Coulson can’t be seen.” 

“Will you promise to take it easy? Transport only?” Jemma asked with a frown, considering.

Grant fought to keep a triumphant smile off his face. “I’ll even stay at the safe house.” He told her.

Jemma took one last look at the lab, then turned back to him. “Alright. When do you want to leave?”

“Now?” He asked, adopting a sheepish look when she raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Jem, I know you’re just as worried as I am.” He said coaxingly.

She huffed. “Fine. But you’re telling May.”

“Consider it done.” He told her with a grimace that wasn’t faked at all. He was pretty sure he could convince May to let them go without her, but it would probably take longer than he wanted to. He was hoping Jemma would be so concerned about the rest of the team, she would forget about it. Still, better him than Jemma, on the off chance that May would raise too many questions or worse, insist on joining them. “I’ll let Koenig know, too, if you want to get everything ready.”

Twenty minutes later, he walked onto the Bus with a spring on his step. May leaving was a stroke of luck, and Koenig had accept his explanation of Jemma being worried about the team without fuss. Toning down his body language, he wrapped an arm around Jemma when he found her setting things up in the briefing room. “All good on your end?” He asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Yes,” she told him, smiling as she turned toward him. “You?”

He smiled back. “Koenig will keep searching, and May said she had some things she wanted to take care of anyway.”

Jemma nodded, turning back to the computer on the table to continue working. After a few moments, when Grant simply leaned into her, enjoying what was likely one of his last quiet moments with his wife, she turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. “Did you need my help with something? I was rather under the impression that you wanted to leave sooner than later.”

Grant shrugged, letting go. “I do, it’s just been a long time since we had a moment together.”

“Well, the sooner you get the Bus in the air, the sooner I can decrypt the hard drive. After that, it’s a long flight to Portland and we can spend it all together. But until then, you’ll just get in my way.” She added tartly, softening the scold with a wink.

Grant grinned, unbothered by her statement. “Yes, ma’am,” he jokingly saluted, backing out of the room. “I’ll let you know when we reach cruising altitude.”

“Give me half an hour past that to decrypt the drive. I shouldn’t need much longer than that if you aren’t here to distract me.” She gave him a flirty look, her earlier concern seemingly pushed aside.

“Thirty minutes.” He promised her, finally turning away to start the plane. It only took a few minutes to get into the air, having opened the hanger doors after speaking to May and prepared the plane before even finding Jemma. The Bus was harder to fly than a Quinn or jump jet, but the basics were the same. He took the time it took to reach cruising altitude to come up with a handful of options for how to handle Jemma. He loved his wife, but she was far too loyal to SHEILD, not to mention moral, to ever join HYDRA. He would do his best to get her to Coulson; they might not agree, but the older agent would look out for her. He doubted his cover would last much longer. Finally reaching altitude, he used the loudspeaker to let Jemma know. Falling back into planning mode, he decided simple would be best. An artificially lengthened sleep, followed by waking up in the safe house would let him get away, and keep his cover viable a little longer. Checking the clock, he set the Bus to autopilot, then headed back to check on Jemma.

When he reentered the room, Jemma was facing the door, leaning on the holotable and giving him a self-satisfied look. “All done.” She said, gesturing at the computer on the table. “Decrypted and ready for whatever crisis we find next.”

“You’re amazing,” Grant told her honestly. “Now, how about I set the coordinates and then we take a nap? Maybe cuddle on the couch without anyone to tattle to Coulson about PDA?”

“Or, instead of coming up with some excuse to drop me off in Portland and then leave, you could just take me with you and let me recreate the formula instead of whatever third rate scientist Garrett scraped up.”

Grant couldn’t help but gape for a moment, before quickly adopting a confused look. “I don’t—“

“I am neither a fool, nor unobservant, Grant Ward,” Jemma interrupted tartly, pushing away from the table to stand directly in front of him. “And we have been married for six years. I know you well enough to put the pieces together.” Her gaze softened. “For better or for worse, Grant. I won’t ever be HYDRA, but I also won’t abandon you for being loyal to Garrett.”

For the first time since he had accepted Garrett’s offer, Grant was caught off-guard and without a plan. It only took a few seconds to regain his composure, though. Backing Jemma up against the table, he trapped her between his arms. “How did you find out?” He asked harshly.

Jemma sighed, before explaining, seeming strangely relaxed for someone who just found out their husband was a traitor. “I’ve always known how much Garret means to you. A few years ago, I heard you two talking about a mission that obviously wasn’t SHIELD. So, I started paying attention. There were a few little things that didn’t quite add up. Not because you weren’t careful,” she jumped to reassure him. And wasn’t that a laugh—his wife trying to boost his ego as she told him how she discovered his betrayal. “But we live together, we’re intimate, I have access to your files, and I’m a genius. I didn’t know you were HYDRA, of course, but it was clear you worked for someone else. The key was your story about killing Garrett. I’ve seen you genuinely upset. When we found out Garrett was HYDRA, I wondered, but you seemed so betrayed. Then you came back, saying you had killed him, but it wasn’t right. You would never have killed him, and you weren’t nearly as tense as before you left.”

Grant just looked at her, amazed. For someone who was a terrible liar, the fact that she had kept this hidden was practically a miracle. And still, she was relaxed. “And you’re ok with this?”

Jemma bit her lip. “I—yes and no.” She brought her hands to rub up and down his arms. “You haven’t killed me, haven’t threatened me. I wondered, when I overheard you and Garrett, if I was part of a cover, but there’s no evidence of that. Even if you didn’t mean your vows, I did.”

“I meant them Jemma,” Grant interrupted, hands sliding from the table to settle on her hips, unable to let her think for a minute he didn’t. Jemma was his; his adorable, sweet, brilliant wife. He’d made it clear to Garrett and HYDRA both that Jemma was off limits. Oh, he’d thrown in some explanations of how useful and clever she would be, but Garrett at least knew that wasn’t all. He’d gotten a bit of a lecture on weaknesses, but they’d been married four years by then, and Garrett had been almost a charmed as Grant. Not to mention, she really was that good at her job, and no one had anticipated coming out of the shadows then.

“I’m glad,” she replied simply, smiling reassuringly. After a bit, she continued. “I don’t think I can ever be ok with HYDRA’s mission. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t work for HYDRA. But you told me what happened to Garrett. I assume he needs the GH-325?” At Grant’s nod, she continued, “I’m willing to help with that. SHIELD won’t take me after that, so I thought I’d look into the private sector, maybe get a home for you to come back to between missions.” Jemma shrugged. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Grant said, his smile taking a dark edge, “that you are the most brilliant woman on the planet and I’m very glad I married you.” He cut off any reply she could have made with a hungry kiss. He was smug when he leaned back to see her looking dazed. “Let me call Garrett, then we can talk more about what I think.”

Pulling out his phone, he felt a small part of him relax knowing that Jemma was not only safe, but that she chose him over SHIELD. “Hello, sir,” he replied to Garrett’s brusque greeting. “Hard drive is decrypted and I’m headed your way. ETA, 7 hours. Oh,” he tacked on, right before he hung up, “and I’m bringing a bit of a present for you.”

It was rare he knew something his mentor didn’t.


	11. Wind--Bucky/Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Description of injuries and medical treatment (specifically, amputation)

The cold gusts tore at Jemma’s clothing, chilling her to the bone, as she fought to make her way through the deep snow. She had almost made it back to the small cottage she was calling home until she could find her way back to England when she had seen something fall into the ravine as a train roared above. Concerned, she had quickly changed direction. Finally, she got close enough to hear moaning coming from the edge of the river. As she got closer, she began to hear words—English words.

“Just gotta, gotta get up—aaaah!”

“Hello? Hello, can you hear me?” Jemma sped up until she could see the man struggling to stand, soaking wet and visibly wounded. Tucking away the small pistol that was her only protection, she fell to her knees next to him. Almost immediately, she wished she hadn’t.

“Who—who are you?” He demanded, pointing a gun at her. Jemma’s eyes, however, were drawn to the mangled remnants of his left arm.

“My name is Jemma Simmons.” She told him, holding still. “I’m a doctor, I was attached to the 4th Commando brigade, but we were separated in an attack some time ago. I don’t have the resources to get home, but I have found shelter, and supplies.” The man lowered the gun, but didn’t put it away, and started to shiver. “You need surgery, it won’t be perfect, but I should be able to stop the worst of the bleeding. Please, let me help you.”

He stared at her for a while, measuring, and she did her best to show that she was telling the truth. She knew the longer they took, the less chance he had between the blood loss, probable internal injuries, and water and will chill, but she couldn’t force him; even injured, he was stronger and faster than she. Finally, he nodded, and she quickly fit herself under his right arm, taking care to stay away from the gun, and helped him stand. Together, they struggled back to her abode.

Letting the door slam shut behind them, Jemma helped the man over to the bed. Even in the short time it had taken them to walk back, he had worsened. “It’s alright, you’re just fine.” She told him, efficiently stripping his wet clothes off, before letting him lay down. “Look, you never told me your name, what is it?” She asked, trying to distract him, as she pulled out her meager medical kit.

“Barnes,” he got out, between pants, “Bucky Barnes.”

“That’s an unusual name you have,” she commented, setting up her supplies on the bedside table.

“It’s a nickname.” He explained. “Full name is James—James Buchannon.”

“I see. Well, Bucky, do you have a girl waiting back home?” Jemma asked, hoping talking would help him focus on something besides the pain as she started her assessment, applying makeshift bandages to the worst bleeding and a tourniquet on his upper left arm.

“Nah,” he told her, “Went on a lot of dates, but none of them stuck around. Not many gals are interested when you spend most of your time dragging your best friend outta fights.” She frowned as he coughed, before lurching up. “Fuck, Steve, I gotta—“

“You need to lay down!” She cried in alarm, sliding one arm behind his back and the other around his front to support him.

“You don’t understand!” He yelled back. “I gotta go back, we were in the middle of a mission.”

“You are in no condition to help anyone, mission or no!” She told him. “Even if you were, you fell from a speeding train down a 50 meter cliff—they are long gone by now.” As his tremors worsened, she tried to reassure them. “I’m sure they’re fine. You said your friend had been in a lot of fights, surely he can take care of himself. Once you’re better, I’ll even help you get home.” She conceded.

Bucky laughed briefly, but it was bitter. “Steve can’t keep himself out of trouble, that’s what I’m for.” Despite his words, Bucky let her press him back into the bed. At her prompting, he started to tell her more about their misadventures, only pausing to answer her questions about his injuries.

At last, Jemma leaned back. She had set and bound the few broken bones he had, stitched together and bandaged his many cuts, and found almost no signs of internal injuries. Looking again at his arm, she knew there was no other way. “Bucky,” she interrupted, “I’m sorry, your arm…it needs to come off.” At his sound of protest, she explained. “Even in a hospital with all the tools and doctors I could want, I couldn’t save it. I can give you pain medications, and knock you out, but I need to cut it off. I’m sorry.” She told him, brushing his hair out of his face and meeting his eyes, still glassy with shock, with her own.

“Don’t…don’t knock me out.” He said, sounding more vulnerable than she thought he could. “The drugs and all are fine, but…”

“I understand.” She told him solemnly. She injected him with morphine, then twisted a clean cloth and held it to his mouth. “In case you don’t want to scream.” He bit down on it. “Don’t fight me,” she warned, taking out the small, experimental plasma saw her father had gotten her. Giving the morphine time to kick in, she turned the saw on and pressed down on his left shoulder. With one more deep breath, she brought it to right below the tourniquet and cut.

The smell of burning flesh and Bucky’s muffled screams would haunt her, but the cut was clean and cauterized. Carefully wrapping the stump to prevent any further problems, she removed the remains, letting Bucky gather himself. Returning with a damp towel, she wiped the grime away from his face. “Rest.” Jemma ordered, even as he lost the fight to stay awake. “I’ll watch over you.” She promised.


	12. Order--Bobbi/Jemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post "Scars"

Despite the constant fear of being discovered, there was something comforting about being in HYDRA. Jemma loved rules and doing what was expected—and HYDRA was all about following (their) rules. Since coming back, she’d been on her own, and the lack of structure made it harder to deal with her other problems. Her struggle to help Fitz and stay friends, connecting with others, the fear that ebbed and flowed but never let her stop wondering if they would make it.

Since failing to kill Ward, Jemma had been struggling to contain the feeling of dread. When she heard he and Kara had taken Bobbi, that dread had solidified into guilt. If she’d gotten it right the first time, this would never have happened and maybe things wouldn’t have gone so badly with the Inhumans.

Other than the guilt, though, all Jemma felt was cold, and as the cold settled into her bones, she knew it was down to her. Despite their words, the others were still willing to work with Ward. She knew better. HYDRA’s policy to threats was to remove them, permanently.

Jemma would not make the same mistakes. Between the stun grenades she had reversed engineered and the leftover splinter bombs, she would be more than ready for Ward and any help he managed to scrounge up.


	13. Thanks--Ward/Simmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: Biospecialist + 'arranged marriage that I am only putting up with bc you’re rich and hot as hell au'

Jemma stared at the man she was supposed to marry. Tall, blonde, well dressed. He didn’t seem like he could keep up with her at all. Like most men, she expected he would bore her in days, if not hours.

“It’s nice to see my parents have taste,” he said, looking her up and down.

Jemma narrowed her eyes, before giving a sniff. “I’m only putting up with this because you’re rich and hot.”

He smirked. “I think we’ll manage to get along just fine. Shall we,” he offered her his arm. Together, they entered the ballroom.

–

Three days later, Jemma stumbled out of the target’s mansion, coughing lightly from the smoke. Practically falling into the SUV as May skidded to a stop, Grant caught her arm and pulled her the rest of the way in.

“Did you get everything?” May asked from the front as she hit the gas. “No problems getting out?”

Jemma nodded, holding up a flash drive. “It’s all here. Locations, codes, names. Everything Coulson needs for that Op.”

“Good.” May said. “Rest. It will be about a two hour drive back to the Bus, and then you’ll be debriefed.”

“I understand.” Jemma acknowledged before leaning back.

“Hey,” Grant said softly, “nice job.”

Jemma let the praise wash over her, warming her from the inside. “Thank you,” she relied, shifting so her head laid on his shoulder. “I can’t believe he thought my parents would have the poor taste to match me with him.”

She felt more than heard him laugh. “Yeah,” he agreed, sliding his hand into hers so their rings clicked. “What an idiot.”


	14. Look--Ward/Simmons

“Alright,” Grant grinned as Jemma strode into the room like she owned it, not even sparing him a glance. “Which one of you morons was in charge of recreating the serum?” Grant was slightly disappointed Raina was out of the room; he would have loved to watch his fiancé take the other woman down a notch. “Well?” She asked, looking around the room. Finally, one of the scientists raised his hand tentatively. “Get me all your notes and samples and set up a lab for me.” She ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” he saluted, then took off at a run.

“In the meantime, Fitz has been incapacitated, but the rest of Coulson’s team is on their way. You lot,” she pointed at a group of agents, “go get ready for them. Remember, they have two specialists, one of whom is the Cavalry, and two field agents. Do NOT underestimate them. The rest of you, make sure everything is ready for the Armed Forces’ visit. Grant,” she said, finally acknowledging him, “make sure Garrett doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Now, Jemma,” Garrett spoke up, eyes wild. “No time to look at the past, we need to move on—look into the future, for the world that’s waiting—“ Jemma turned to listen with a raised eyebrow for about five seconds, before raising her ICER and shooting him in the chest.

Grant watched, almost as surprised as his mentor, as Garrett fell, unconscious. He glanced at Jemma. “Modified rounds.” She explained dismissively. “Change of plans,” she announced, addressing the whole room. “Grant, secure Garrett, then take over preparations for Coulson. You know what to expect.” He nodded to her, equally amused and turned on. It had been a long time since they’d had a chance to act normally; both their covers were pretty boring, though watching Jemma play straight and deceive people so thoroughly had its own charm. “Let me know if there are any changes, then. I’m going to go fix the serum so Garret can at least pretend to be competent.”

“You heard her,” he told the agents. “Get moving.” He made his way to Garrett, veering off briefly to kiss Jemma deeply. “See you later.” He told her, hoisting Garrett over his shoulder. He hoped Coulson didn’t take too long; he had to entertain himself somehow until Jemma finished.


	15. Summer--Natasha/Jemma

Most people think of the Black Widow as cold, but Jemma would always associate Natasha with warmth. Perhaps it was because they had first met in on a particularly hot June day, or perhaps because the second time they had met, Natasha had used her own body to shield Jemma from an explosion. Jemma suspected it was the older woman’s smile and the way she always ended up with an arm slung over her shoulder.

So when she couldn’t take it any more—when the shaking of her hands wouldn’t stop, and she couldn’t sleep, or eat, or cry, or smile, when numbness had settled deep in her bones—Natasha was the one she called.

She went through three numbers before she got an answer.

“Romanoff.” Natasha’s voice was brisk.

Jemma could feel the tension leave her body. “Natasha? It’s Jemma.”


	16. Tremble--Ward/Simmons

Grant snapped awake at the whisper of the door opening and the breath of cool air that accompanied it. There were only two reasons someone would be down here this late at night: to rescue him or to get rid of him. He slid out of bed and stood ready in the center of his cell. When soft footsteps revealed his wife, hair mused and clad only in pajamas, he had to force himself not to show his surprise. Jemma had yet to visit him, and he was starting to consider taking measure to make her.

He needn’t have bothered. She headed straight for the controls without sparing him a glance.

That wouldn’t do. “Jem?” He called out softly, letting his earlier surprise color his voice and expression.

Jemma paused her typing and looked up. “Grant.” She replied, voice carefully even.

“What are you doing down here, Jem?” He asked, honestly curious. “Sleeping.” She replied flatly.

Grant blinked. Of all the responses he had come up with, that was not one. Looking closer, though, he could see the signs of exhaustion written all over her body—the dark circles under her eyes, the faint shaking of her hands—“Ok,” He said. “This might be a stupid question, but why are you down here if you need sleep? Last I checked, you had a whole room to yourself.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she snapped, “just because you’re a traitor doesn’t mean I can just—just turn off my feelings.”

“You’re right, I know.” He soothed. Not only was Jemma the only one he actually cared about, but she was his best bet out of here. Which is why he had to ask, “but surely there are medications you could use, and Skye would never object if you needed someone to cuddle with.”

“Drugging myself is neither efficient nor restful. Moreover, I find the idea of seeking comfort in the bed of others—even platonically—disquieting.” She said, her discomfort clear in her voice and the wrinkling of her nose.

Normally even the slightest suggestion of his wife in the bed of another would be enough to send swells of rage through him, but as it was, he had to suppress as smile. “I can’t say I’m opposed,” he admitted, “but I still don’t see how this is going to work. In order to share the bed, you’re going to have to let down the barrier and I doubt even you trust me that me that much.”

“You’re correct, I don’t. Which is why I activated a second barrier when I came in. It blocks access to the stairs,” she explained, stepping over to brush said buffer with her hand, making it visible, “and can only be opened from the outside.” She moved back to the control tablet. “So you will have two choice. I’m going to lower the barrier for five seconds. You can stay on that side and spend the night with me or you can try to escape and be stuck on this side until morning. And before you think you’ll be able to escape then, I’ve left very specific instructions for how to get me out.”

“Well,” Grant was amused enough by her little lecture to let it show, even as he made a point of sitting on the end of the bed. “It sounds like you’ve thought this all out.”

She sniffed. “I might not be a field agent, but I am an excellent planner.” She said as she deactivated the barrier. Grant followed her every move as she joined him in the cell. It was only after the barrier reactivated and she had slid into bed that he moved.

Joining her under the covers, he settled in, pressed close with an arm slung around her waist. He waited until she fell asleep, only mere minutes later, then pressed a kiss to her hair. He could work with this. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she still trusted him, still loved him. With a little work, he was sure she’d see things his way.


	17. Sunset--Bobbi/Jemma

The sun had barely risen when Jemma left. She had work, but it was Bobbi’s day off. She woke briefly when Jemma got up, the shifting of the bed rousing her before she slid back into slumber until mid-morning. She had two routines for when she didn’t work: one for if Jemma was also off and one for it was just her.

Things with Hunter hadn’t worked out after leaving SHEILD, but after a brief stint at the CIA with her old friend Sharon Carter, she had joined Interpol. Jemma worked for the WHO, focusing her research on human diseases and giving the occasional lecture. Their schedules didn’t match perfectly, but they managed to get at least half of their days off together.

When she had the house to herself, she slept until at least 10am. Breakfast was an egg over whatever bread they had that week. A quick workout, a long shower, and then a light lunch of leftovers while watching House Hunters.

Afternoons were reserved for cooking. It wasn’t that Jemma wasn’t a good cook—she was the undisputed Queen of Sandwiches, after all—but she didn’t enjoy it the way Bobbi did. She was making gnocchi today. Potatoes boiled, riced, and cooling, she headed out for a walk into town. Stopping by the bakery, she bought a small pastry to munch on and more bread for breakfast. Ambling to the market, she enjoyed the sunshine. SHEILD had been so cold and dark by the end that she cherished the warmth. Finally selecting a mix of berries and fresh cream, she returned to their small home. Groceries safely put away, she went back to her preparations. Potatoes, egg, and flour turned easily into dough in her experienced hands. She ventured briefly into Jemma’s garden for fresh sage, but didn’t linger. The sun was beginning to set and she wanted dinner to be ready when Jemma got home.

The gnocchi were cooking and frying in brown butter and sage when the door opened to reveal Jemma and the warm, golden rays of the setting sun. Bobbi grinned. “You’re just in time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](http://www.finecooking.com/recipes/pan-seared-gnocchi-browned-butter-sage.aspx) is the recipe Bobbi is making. Having made it before (though minus the sage because we didn't have any), I can tell you it's pretty good.


	18. Mad--Bakshi/Simmons

Bakshi approached her at her new desk two days after the mission to retrieve Donnie went wrong.

“Mr. Bakshi,” she greeted, trying to hide her sudden surge of nerves with a small smile.

“Miss Simmons,” he returned with a nod. “I hope your new project is to your liking.” Jemma wished she was better at reading people; he seemed interested but a man of his talents could easily fake that. Still, it was a safe enough topic.

Her smile was more genuine now. “Very much so. The chemical structure is fascinating and my tests indicate there is a lot of potential, though they aren’t conclusive yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He told her before explaining, “I simply wanted to see how you were settling into this lab. I’ll be away for a few days on a mission, but I’m glad the work suits your tastes.”

“I very much appreciate your interests,” Jemma told him, careful to keep her face pleasant. Then, struck by inspiration, she continued, briefly lowering her gaze and biting her lip before asking, “Perhaps we could get some tea when you return? I’m sure a fellow Englishman such as yourself can always appreciate a good cup.”

As he agreed to meet her, she wondered if this is what madness felt like. She squared her shoulders as he left, before returning to her work, as Coulson’s reminder to make friends swirled through her mind. Perhaps his interest was a good thing.


	19. Thousand--Ward/Simmons

Grant’s worn hundreds, thousands of faces, but his favorite is the one Jemma calls _darling_.

He used to prefer the one Garrett called _son_. He knew, even then, though, that Garrett always had ulterior motives and would cut him loose if he felt Grant had become a weakness. Jemma couldn’t even tell a lie.

It was restricting, but freeing at the same time. He had to suppress his darker instincts, but he was freer to indulge others that Garrett defined as weaknesses. He could never admit it, but he _liked_ Jemma’s fussing, the pranks and gentle teasing, arguing with Coulson about the mission. Working with Garret was fun, but working with Coulson and the rest of team felt _right_ in a way he’d never really felt before.

Honestly, he knew he shouldn’t, but he was starting to let flashes of his darker tendencies show through, hidden as black humor and over-protectiveness, and no one had even given him a second glance. He wondered how far he could go, but knew he would have to be very, very careful if he wanted to continue. One wrong move would give him away and he’d lose everything

If it went well, though.

This might be his last mask.


	20. Letters--Ward/Simmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Formal

Jemma,

How are your new classes going? Did you figure out the power problem for that fancy ice making?

I’ve been officially posted at the Hub with Garrett as my SO, at least until we get sent out on an actual mission. I’ll let you know when that happens, so you won’t panic if I don’t call or write for a while.

As for your question, being an official agent means a lot of paper work. Orientation was just a boring as the one for the Academy, but three times the forms to fill out. I dread what mission reports will be like, especially if anything goes wrong.

I look forward to your letter,

Grant

—

Dear Grant,

First of all, it’s a crystalline nucleation process, not “fancy ice making,” thank you very much, and second, yes, I have. I’ve started a new project with Fitz; it’s a portable machine to help with the analysis of unknown materials, as a matter of fact. We’ve hit a few bumps, but should have a working prototype within a few months if everything goes well. In any case, classes are fairly interesting but not too challenging. Fitz and I are both in our second semester of Holographic Engineering and I managed to get into Alien Chemistry and Biology as my elective! Unfortunately, this is also the semester I have to take History of SHEILD. I’m still attending the Cross-division Communication, Coordination, and Cooperation, though more as a student advisor than a participant. It’s a good chance to catch up with Bobbi, at least. Speaking of 4C classmates, do you know where Tripp is stationed?

How exciting to be at the Hub! As much as I hope to go to the Sandbox, the Hub is ideal for a specialist. Bobbi mentioned that’s her goal, and to be assigned there right off! Especially with Garrett as your SO. I’d say I hope he can keep you from pulling wild stunts and getting injured, but from your stories, I expect he’ll just encourage you. So this is your reminder: keep yourself in one piece!

Thank you for keeping me in the loop. I’ll do my best not to worry if I don’t hear from you if you get out suddenly and don’t get a chance to notify me of being gone. Just don’t forget to let me know when you get back!

That is a lot of paperwork. I thought what they gave Fitz and I for inventions was bad, but this sounds much worse. You’ll just have to do your best to keep things don’t go wrong, won’t you?

I hope you’re settling in well! What is the Hub like? Are you making any friends with the other agents? Have you met anyone exciting?

Yours,

Jemma


	21. Simple--Ward/Simmons

The house is small but well kept. Not quite a farmhouse, the cottage is neither opulent nor new, unlike many of Grant’s safe houses. Most importantly, though, it is owned not by one of his covers, but one of his wife’s.

It is his wife he can see working in the small garden. In a cliche he would not believe her able to stand, if not for their six years of marriage, there is even a pie cooling in one window. The cat grooming itself in the window gives him pause, but the dog lying on the porch reassures him he’s welcome; they had long agreed they would have to find one of each to suit both of their preferences.

It’s a very welcome sight. He had been given–purposefully, no doubt–the impression that his wife left, first the base then SHIELD altogether, rather than deal with his betrayal. It seems that isn’t the complete truth, though the abundance of lavender indicates he isn’t wholly forgiven.

He’s forced to lower his gaze to unlock the gate and when he looks back up, Jemma’s watching him carefully. He steps through the gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lavender supposedly symbolizes mistrust


	22. Future--Ward/Simmons

Grant can’t decide if he’s amused, annoyed, or thrilled when Agent Coulson pulls Jemma from her nice, safe research lab into the field. On the one hand, he’ll have to be even more careful now, but on the other, it’s another layer of challenge.

Jemma, of course, is thrilled. It’s another way for her to make the world better and she’s as good at it as she is research—which is to say, brilliant. It does give Grant a bit of insight on what the FBI has on his…hobby, though, so he gives up after only a token protest about her safety.

Which is why the note and small package nearly give him a heart attack. It’s only been three weeks. The forget-me-not (one of the carefully selected flowers he’d used in the bouquet he’d bought for their anniversary) was carefully sealed in an evidence bag.

The note itself sends him reeling. At first glance, his mind floods with contingency plans but a second stops him short. A slow smile spreads. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with secrets; he’d keep a few of those back up plans, but it seems that a discussion with his wife might be prudent before he makes any decisions. After all, she did leave a note rather than tell the FBI.

 _Next time_ , it reads, _be more careful cleaning up_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the result of reading too many murder husbands!Hannigram fics.


	23. Companion--Bobbi/Jemma

Jemma didn’t acknowledge Bobbi when she sat down next to her, continuing to stare into her tea. Bobbi settled into the couch, pressing their arms together. Jemma soaked in the comfort. A week ago, she would have left, angry at Bobbi’s betrayal. Now her presence was welcome. Yes, she had been working for Gonzales, but Bobbi had never hurt her, and told her the truth.

Setting her cold mug on the table in front of her, Jemma sighed and leaned into the taller woman. “How could he?” She whispered. May had met Bobbi and Mack when they had returned with Coulson, but Jemma had holed up in the kitchen, unable to confront him. She had trusted him for so long, kept secrets for him, and he was doing something this big behind their backs. She knew as Director he would have some secrets, but this was too much.

“I don’t know,” Bobbi told her honestly. “He went straight to Gonzales. May and Mack are there, but I wanted to make sure you were ok.” Bobbi slid her arm over Jemma’s shoulder, pulling her closer.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” Jemma confessed. “I’m so tired of these games. I want to do science and, and help people. Lately, people only seem to get hurt.” Herself, her friends, unwitting bystanders.

Bobbi said nothing for a minute, leaving Jemma to reflect on her own words. They were true, but where else could she go. Finally, Bobbi spoke. “If that’s what you need, I know some people. Hill owes me a favor if you want to work for Stark. We’d miss you—I’d miss you—but your well-being is more important. And there will always be a spot waiting for you.” Jemma turned to look at her. Bobbi smiled sadly at her. “Take your time, think about it. Maybe talk to May. But you need out, just say the word.”

Jemma nodded slowly in thanks, throat tight and unable to voice the words, before sliding her own arm around Bobbi’s waist and settling back in. For now, she would wait, fortify herself in Bobbi’s warmth and quiet strength. She would see what May thought after she saw what Coulson had to say, but she had options. Perhaps she would be able to weather this storm with Bobbi’s support. If she couldn’t, Bobbi would get her out. She would be ok.


	24. Winter--Bucky/Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Wind

It is late February by the time they make it back to an Allied base. By some incredible stroke of luck, it also happens to be where Captain America and the Howling Commandos are posted. Later, Jemma will point out that it makes sense that they are posted so close to the front lines and so close to where the last HYDRA base was, but stumbling into some of the few people who could recognize at least one of them right away felt like a miracle.

And they did stumble into the camp. The journey home had been long, with too little food and water and not enough sleep. Bucky's injuries and Jemma's general low stamina had only compounded the issue. They had managed to avoid any confrontations with enemy forces, which they both know would have meant death or capture.

They are both taken straight to medical. Their wet and dirty clothes are efficiently removed and some of the aides start cleaning them up even as the doctor starts his exam. Bucky relays the events of his fall and their subsequent journey home, while Jemma details the medical issues and treatment she was able to give. They barely make it half way through their explanations before Steve Rogers bursts in.

He's pale and a little wild eyed as he focuses on his friend. He doesn't seem to care that he's interrupting a medical exam and a debriefing as he rushes over to check Bucky himself. Jemma just smiles as she watches the friends hug and slowly relax in the other's presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was halfway written and I misplaced it. Once I found it again, I was scramblingfor an ending because I'm not sure exactly where I was going with it. So I'm sorry if it feels rushed or awkward!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at ForgottenKanji if you feel so inclined.


End file.
